


Can Anyone Who Has Heard This Music Really Be A Bad Person?

by Snory



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Past Tauradonna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snory/pseuds/Snory
Summary: He was chasing her. She saw no flash of red, but she knew it. She could feel him so close as if he were standing right next to her, breathing down her neck. So she told herself she wouldn't stay long. 'Just tonight', she thought. 'Then I’ll leave'. She'd done it before, many times. This time should be no different.But something about the blonde's smile put a lump in Blake’s throat. She had been running so much, for so long, and she was so tired...Maybe... A little longer... Wouldn't hurt.





	1. Fortuna

**Author's Note:**

> **READ FIRST**
> 
> I usually am not a fan of notes at the beginning of things, but I thought that I might put an extra warning out just to cover anyone who reads this fic. Blake is so interesting to write, and a lot of that comes from her struggle with Adam and her perceived personality trait of always being on edge. In this story I capitalise on it very much because it, I feel, helps me as a writer to really spend time getting into someone's head. And, seeing that this is an AU but set in the same universe with some Canon Divergences, I kept it so that these events would lead up to V3's events with some minor major changes. So we will be focusing on Blake's problem with Adam (thought not, necessarily Adam himself very much) all through the story. And when my beta was reading this she expressed that she felt a little bit of her own past with relationship abuse creeping up on her. So this is my warning to any who could feel triggering effects with such a storyline like Blake's. Though I try not to pile it on, it is something we will have to deal with heavily for the first four or so chapters. If you are not deterred by this, but you are having problems, please take a look in [this directory](https://www.opencounseling.com/hotlines) for emergency numbers to contact, or please contact your councilor/therapist so that you don't suffer unnecessarily. 
> 
> That being said, thank you for your interest in reading my story. The first chapter is short, which is why I'm releasing it with an already finished second chapter. Have a good read, and I'll try to keep only the link for the directory up at the beginning so as not to distract from the story.

The rain poured itself onto the midnight pavement in waves, soft, but with purpose. It caused the light from the street lamps to wiggle and pulse hypnotically. The cars cast her mirror perfectly upon their hoods as she hurried past them and out of the storm. It had caught her so suddenly without a coat or an umbrella, and left her soaked through her shirt to the bone.

She was already shivering by the time she made it underneath the awning of the restaurant across the street. Her light brown arms clutched themselves for warmth, the liquid weather carving streams down her elbows. Her breath came in ragged gasps from running for so long; her eyes, wild and wide, scanned the cars and the street across from her.

He was chasing her. She saw no flash of red, but she knew it. She could feel him so close as if he were standing right next to her, breathing down her neck. 

It terrified her. Her heart pounded -- not from the running, but from the fear of seeing those pointed teeth glinting in the street lights. The cold of the rain didn’t bother her mind, though her body was racked with it. She was too busy scanning her surroundings and hoping… Wishing…

“Are you gonna come inside?”

Blake jerked so hard she thought she pulled a muscle. Her entire body shot towards the voice, triggering her fight or flight. But it was only some woman poking her head out of the glass doors to the establishment Blake had decided to stand in front of.

She scanned the blonde for any signs of her allegiance. Long blonde hair tied up tight behind her head, a white dress shirt tucked into a pair of black chinos. An apron covered the whole ensemble - the kind that waiters wore and produced straws and change out of.

This woman wasn’t a Faunus. Unless… Maybe she was hiding it. Maybe she could change colour. Maybe she was pretending to look unassuming. She had seen it before. 

“No,” Blake replied, shaking her head. She started to move hurriedly past the woman before something caught a hold of her arm. Blake looked down, her blood pumping ice into her face.

The woman didn’t say anything at all. Serious and stern, she kept her hold and only held her tighter when she felt the other girl try and pull her arm away. Blake saw her cast a sideways glance and lowered her chin. It was then that she realised what was going on.

“... Can you see him?” Her breath caught in her throat, seeing the flash of red hair in her mind’s eye.

The blonde caught her eye and kept her gaze fixed there. “He looks mad… And you look soaked.”

Something about that smile put a lump in Blake’s throat. She had been running so much, for so long, and she was so tired. Suddenly she felt that in every part of her being, and the inside of the restaurant from outside looked inviting.

“He won’t stop chasing me,” A sudden wave of emotions thrashed against Blake’s chest. A tremble ran through her, and she was sure that both of them could feel it. But she couldn’t have stopped it if she wanted to, the fear was that real. 

The waiter released her arm and slid her hand down to take Blake’s cold digits into her own. It was an exceedingly intimate gesture for sure. The warmth of this person’s hand made her own sting with the temperature difference. She found herself protesting, pulling against the touch.

“W-wait, I’m not-”

Her words stopped quick to stick to her tongue. The blonde cocked an eyebrow. Saying that she wasn’t human would take away the warmth of the inside and leave her to the cold at her back. Blake could feel Adam’s eyes boring into her skull so furiously that she felt it could crack the bone. 

There wasn’t a choice, she convinced herself. It was either this restaurant and this woman or Adam Taurus. There was no contest.

I’ll just use her for a while, she thought. I’ll get warm, get dry, and find out how to escape from this.

She always escaped. She just needed a minute to regroup, find an exit, slip out undetected.

“Thank you.”

Blake lowered her chin and spoke these words, letting the waitress pull her in, and the glass doors swing silently shut behind her.

Inside the atmosphere was as warm as Blake had quietly hoped. A row of maroon booth seating on the left stretched all the way to some double doors in the back of this extensive room. They began a few steps behind a waiter’s booth and continued to run along the windows - which, she realised, you could see perfectly outside of, but not into.

To the right of the entrance, past the waiting room made of glass, there were an array of tables both circular and square, and each one set with four places. Napkins and silverware dressed them, their chairs slightly leaning back to encourage relaxation.

Further back than that was a long bar with a considerable liquor collection kept on shelves lined at the backs with glass. The chairs up to the counter had long, thin wooden legs, and did not lean like those at the tables for four. The counter itself was a smooth chocolate wood you could nearly sleep on -- it was wide for sure, but it also seemed worn in a rocking chair type of way. There were a couple of thin, expensive-looking TVs mounted above the spirits and their shelves at either end of the bar.

The blonde pulled Blake in past all of this. She moved deftly between the tables and behind the bar to a door on the far wall she hadn’t seen before, shotgunning herself through through it and letting it swing open wildly. It crashed into the white wall on the inside of the hallway they came to. It was short and full of warehouse blue metal stairs that shot up in a tight spiral. Each level had a sign reading a number, and the further up they went the more claustrophobic Blake felt, the more her legs threatened to buckle.

“Where… Where are we going?” She panted. She had trusted this person’s hand, and now she worried that she had made the wrong decision. There were only doors in this stairwell. No windows, no anything but doors. Where could she run to? Where did those doors lead? Where was she? The whole place had looked empty, what if there was no one else here? She hadn’t thought this through.

The waiter’s voice echoed in the staircase louder than Blake had expected. She flinched and couldn’t stop the grimace on her lips.

“Sorry. I keep telling Professor Ozpin that he should get an elevator in here for special emergencies. But that’s not how the old man rolls, I guess. He thinks that all of his students should be learning a lesson every second of the day.”

The woman looked back at Blake with another grin. She didn’t seem worn out by the stairs, which made Blake envious, because her legs were jelly by the fifth floor.

Which, thankfully, was the last floor. And, she couldn’t help but notice, the floor with the only door with a lock. The wood on this dark brown door looked heavy, like it could take a beating or ten. And judging by the entrance they had made to the hallway, Blake found herself glad that this door didn’t seem at risk for splintering.

The woman took her keys out of her pants pocket, reached forward and unlocked the door. Pulling it open looked as if it would be a herculean task, but this person did it with relative ease and stepped inside. She continued down a short hallway and hung her keys up on a hook, turning on a light as she went.

She knew Blake was hesitating outside in the stairwell without looking and her grin grew. 

“Aura was built with dorms on top of it. They belong to the school and to Professor Ozpin. Everyone who lives here works down in the restaurant part time and goes to school the other part of the time.”

The blonde turned and took off her apron, dropping it on a washing machine in a little alcove just to the left of the hallway.

“Well, except for me,” There was a twinkle in her eye, watching Blake. Her lips were pursed in an odd way, a deadpan expression on her face that seemed almost comical in and of itself.

Blake broke eye contact, but she didn’t move, her eyes wandering to the side. “What… do you do here?”

“Oh, well, isn’t it obvious?” The waiter winked. “I save stray kittens from the rain.”

A cold knot clenched in Blake’s stomach, fearing the worst. Had she been found out? Could this person see? She had been keeping her ears hidden under a thick black headband that was tight enough to force them down. They hurt all the time, but they were hidden. She’d made sure of that.

The woman noticed her distress and apologised. “Sorry. Bad joke when we don’t really know each other yet. Let me start over.”

She came back to the doorway and sighed, her smile more subdued now as she looked Blake dead in the eye.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Yang Xiao-Long. I work at Aura as a bartender, game master, and overall pain in the ass. Won’t you come inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always appreciative of thoughts and feelings in the comments.


	2. Solipsist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, again, is the [link](https://www.opencounseling.com/hotlines) for the hotlines in case anyone needs them. Happy reading.

Blake stared at the hand extended to her, and it was a moment before she could really make _any_ decision about _any_ of this. Her lack of real rest combined with the warm air of the stairwell was muddling her thoughts. She was at her weakest, and though she knew she wasn’t safe she wanted to trust this person.

 _Just tonight_ , she told herself. _Then I’ll leave_.

Her hand came up finally to Yang’s and squeezed it politely as they shook. When Yang turned to continue back down the hallway she spoke warmly over her shoulder.

“Let’s see if we can find you some clothes of mine or Weiss’s that can fit you, huh?”

Blake stayed silent, not sure if this person was really seeking a response. Pulling the door closed behind her she found that it actually seemed to be quite a bit lighter than she’d originally thought. It shut with as much ease as it had been opened, and Blake didn’t know what to think about _that either_. 

Slowly she inched forward in the lit hallway, dripping from the elbows to the ends of her hair. She held herself closely in this unfamiliar space. Although the deep brown of the floor didn’t creak when she crept over it, she had lived so long so used to distrust that she dared not walk carelessly through this cream coloured hall. 

The ruffling of cloth swam around her head with each muted click of her heel. There were no doors in this hall -- her “saviour” had disappeared somewhere while Blake hadn’t been looking. A moment of panic swelled once more in her chest, but despite every voice in her head telling her to run, she kept on. 

She knew what was waiting for her outside. And she would rather not run head first into the arms of Adam Taurus.

When she reached the end of the hall she found herself in a medium sized kitchen-area. To her right were all of the typical components of one -- A long counter interrupted by a gas stove, cabinets above and below them, and a yellow-white fridge at her side no bigger than she was. It was quaint. Cute. It felt well worn in like an old house in the countryside.

At the other end of the kitchen was another short hallway. It was still dark, but with her superior faunus vision she could see it had three doors: one on either side of the hall, and one at the very end of it. The door on the right was open and Blake could tell even with her ears covered, the shuffling cloth sounds were coming directly from there, although it was dark as well.

A bolt of white light exploded from somewhere, followed in time by a clap of thunder. It made Blake jump out of her skin and turn to face it. But instead of any immediate danger she now spotted two folding doors to her left, one of them closed while the other was slightly folded up. Curiosity overtook her, wondering what type of place could possibly be on the other side of this room. So with her steps still light she started towards the part in the partisan. 

White luminescence flooded the unlit kitchen when lightning flashed again from behind the two doors. Her right eye illuminated, dilated, and kept a steady gaze as she reached a hand out to widen the aperture before her. Slowly at first, she pushed it aside, but the door was old and stuck. So she shoved instead with both of her hands to fold it back into place.

Blake was met with nine wooden steps that lead down into a cozy, albeit wide living area. There were couches with different articles of clothing living on them, a coffee table with cups and water bottles resting on its surface. A set of metal dumbbells hid in the corner of this room more than four times her size. 

But none of these things captured her attention like the windows.

The whole far side of the room before her was a wall of only windows. Long, wide, and thick with glass, outlined in black metal trim so thin that one could barely see it unless they were up close enough. The rain, now heavier, forced itself against them in buckets of unrelenting cold. The lightning exploded yet again, throwing white onto all it touched, and deepening the shadows into a swallowing blackness for just a mere second. But that was enough.

Blake retreated immediately behind the door she had left alone, hiding from the room and its revealing light. 

The pace of her breathing quickened as behind her eyes he shattered those windows with a sneer and stepped inside. The rainwater dripped from his mask like blood. The glass beneath his boots crunched - the pieces digging deeper into her skin with every heavy footfall, and her chest tightened the closer and closer he came.

She began her sprint to the entrance. However, as her eyes shot open she found herself halfway down the partisan, and the sporadic climb to her feet made her dizzy. Her erratic breathing gave rise to the whiteness clawing into her vision. Blake’s knees buckled underneath her and sent her to the floor just as quickly as she’d tried to stand.

An arm shot out to catch her by the middle and hauled her up just before she hit the ground. Muted words floated through her head, but she could barely hear it through the ringing in both sets of her ears. She groaned loudly and clutched at her head with confusion muddling her ability to do much else. Again, but this time with help, she slid to the floor.

After a moment Blake found the strength to lock onto the woman’s voice. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” Yang assured her. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and breathe, okay?”

Amber met lilac when the former could finally parse the words being spoken to her. She did as she was told and struggled to put air in her lungs, following the pattern that Yang laid out for her with her own breathing. Soon the ringing faded with the confusion, and Blake was back to her exhausted and paranoid self. 

Yang waited a full minute in silence before she stood up and held out a hand. She let the rattled wreck take it slow on the incline without asking any immediate questions. Instead, when Blake looked stable enough, she handed the poor faunus what she had scrounged up from her room. 

Blake was puzzled. “What are…?”

With a smirk Yang went over to the folded door next to them, pulling it shut and bringing the kitchen into a soft darkness. Then a light flicked on in the middle of the room over an isle stretching long just across from the stove and fridge. 

“At the end of the hall is a bathroom,” she pointed with a finger. “There are towels in there if you want to use one for a shower, or a bath. If not you can just change into those pajamas so we can dry you and your outfit out. We don’t want you coming down with something, do we?”

Blake felt a shiver blow through her like an icy wind, but she kept the clothes in front of her and took no steps towards getting warm just yet. Her eyes fell to the package that had been prepared for her. And without a word she shook her head.

The blonde raised an eyebrow at this and her hand fell to her side. “What’s wrong?”

So many things were wrong. She was so far away from her home, so far away from her family, so confused and so terrified. She was so scared. The cold had yet to really reach through the numbness of all of her pent up emotions and exhaustion. Blake tried to think of something to say, some way to explain it, but she ended up gritting her teeth instead. After several thick seconds of silence she finally looked up at Yang with dry eyes. It was only her voice that skipped a beat.

“Can I really trust you?”

It was a stupid question, she knew. But the tiredness Blake felt in her bones had finally made it into her mind, and she couldn’t help but ask.

Yang’s expression changed. It became serious, emotionless. It was almost as if the woman repeated every word in her head and digested it slowly enough to really comprehend it.

“You can trust me.”

There was another pause. Blake didn’t move an inch. No matter what Yang said, it was sure that there wouldn’t be any way for her to trust this woman. That would mean giving up the comfortable discomfort that she had carried with her all this year, and it was almost too hard to let go of. 

Yang could see this. With a slow, careful couple of steps towards Blake, she came to stand right in front the other woman. She kept her voice as soothing as she could manage so as not to light any more flight signals.

“You can trust me,” Yang repeated. “I promise you can trust me.”

It took everything Blake had to let it go. She had already gotten this far, she told herself. She wouldn’t shower. She would just change clothes. She would get dry. She would let her clothes dry, and wait until the rain stopped. Then she would be on her way again.

The mental toll that it took to move each leg could nearly be heard like a protesting metal beam bending under a weight too great to hold. But Blake did move them. And eventually she made it to the hall where a thought struck her and forced her to a stop.

Whether or not this was a terrible decision she felt real guilt now about one thing. That one thing made her chin swivel over to her shoulder and her lips part hesitantly. She moved back slightly to look Yang in the eyes again. But that proved to be a little too much for her emotions so she turned herself back to the hall.

“... My name is Blake.”

Yang let the reveal settle in the air before she smiled again.

“Blake,” she repeated quietly. “... It’s nice to meet you, Blake.”

Blake stood for only a minute longer. Then, almost robotically, she forced herself down the hall and into the bathroom.

When the door came to a close behind her she immediately locked it. The warmth of the small space made the sudden sting of her cold clothing almost unbearable, so she tossed the pajamas on the closed porcelain to her left and set to work, peeling off the offending articles. The ones that she had been gifted from Yang were slightly damp from her hugging them so close before, but they proved capable of warming her up with no problem as she shrugged them on. 

A yellow long-sleeved shirt with a fiery heart insignia emblazoned in orange, loose white pants that doubled up around her ankles. The sleeves on the shirt were longer than her arms as well, she noticed. She turned her hands around in them and watched as only the tips of her red fingers poked through.

Yang had definitely seemed tall. Blake felt that she underestimated, though, how long the woman was. She had been so preoccupied with her own paranoia that she had barely really even looked at the blonde hunched over next to the front door of the restaurant. Upon sudden memory, however, she could recall the size of Yang’s hand holding hers. Not clumsily large, but long. Just a bit bigger than her own.

When Blake came out of her thoughts she found herself staring at an orange towel on the counter of a tan and white marbled sink. The sudden throbbing of her ears made her wince, and she relented as much as she could, knowing that it wouldn’t be good for her hair or fur to keep wet.

She reached up to her headband and peeled it off with a deliberate slowness. And after her black ears were free Blake took great satisfaction in stretching them this way and that. She flattened them, she perked them up, she swiveled them, sighing with relief. Then she unfolded the towel in front of her. But before she could put it on something caught her eye and she panicked, tensing up and staring it down.

It was her own reflection that returned her tight glare, and it stopped her heart like nothing else that day had before.

Blake was not the person inside of that sink mirror. At least, it wasn’t at all the Blake she remembered. This Blake’s eyes were sunken in and dark with exhaustion. The pale skin around them seemed paper-thin and ethereal, substantiated only by the red of her nose and the slight purple of her once tuscan lips. 

There was no shine in what had once been a bright amber gaze. This woman could not be her.

Blake felt sick and had to brace herself on the bathroom door, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it. Tears welled up in the back of her eyes, but she choked them back, blinking hard and fighting to breathe while her throat wanted to close itself up in protest. She grabbed the towel and threw it over her head, retreating to the corner between the door and the wall to sit with her head in the space between her knees once again. 

How sickly she had become! Just a shell now of a former time when everything had been okay, and she had felt safe, and she could trust those close to her. Now here she was -- in some person’s bathroom on top of a restaurant, in someone else’s clothes and struggling to stay quiet and keep from crying. How low she had gone! How terrified she was on her own.

And it was all because of him. Adam Taurus. She feared his hands on her neck every waking moment and couldn’t sleep because of it. Once his lackey, once his lover, now his prize and his enemy, his fugitive. 

How she wished she could stop this. How she wished she could go back in time.

“Blake? You alright in there?”

The voice on the other side of the door made her jump, and she tightened the towel around her ears. “I’m fine!” came her shaky reply. But she knew she wasn’t convincing anyone.

Yang stayed silent behind the door for a bit. Blake wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but intuition told her the blonde was worried by the response. So she quickly cleared her throat and repeated her answer with as much strength as she could muster.

“I’m fine, Yang... I’ll be out in a minute.”

Her response was still not enough to convince anyone, but Yang seemed to accept that she wasn’t going to get any other kind of answer. So she gave up and accepted Blake’s words. 

“Ok. I made up my bed in this room here, left the light on for you and everything. When you get done in there just leave your clothes and I’ll hang them up.”

There was a bit of a silence again, and Blake realised at the last second that Yang was waiting for a response. “O-ok.”

There were no footsteps away from the door, so Blake continued to wait. Then, almost like Yang was embarrassed about something, she heard the blonde take just one step back.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the living room. The doors will be closed, so, um… If you need anything just knock, and… I’ll hear you.” Another pause. Then, “Ok, well... Sleep tight,” followed by barefoot steps away from the bathroom door.

Blake waited until she was sure that she heard the sliding doors to the living area click shut. Then she drew a deep breath and stood up, drying off her hair and working carefully around her ears. She took specific caution not to catch herself in the mirror again and finished up quickly. 

She unlocked the door and opened it slightly, making sure that there was no one there. When Blake was satisfied and saw that the only light coming from anywhere was from Yang’s room, she tiptoed out and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind her once more. 

Yang’s room was a mess. There was a trail between the piles of clothing that lead to a fluffy looking bed on the floor, swallowed up by a thick orange comforter. Blake was starting to notice a theme with all this colour the woman had lying around: Yellows, browns, oranges, some reds. She knew that people in Vale loved their colours more than most, but this was bordering on hilarity.

Before she could feel comfortable enough, though, she noticed a window on the far wall, and the closed closet to the right of that.

Taking her chances, she went up to the window first and looked quickly through the blinds. The top of another apartment building stared back at her -- a fenced in garden area with a maintenance shed on its leftmost area. Satisfied with no glimpses of red or white she let the blinds fall and pulled back the comforter next, just to make sure that nothing was going to make things go south when she got in later. 

After all of that she finally made her way to the closet.

Blake tensed every muscle she had that still went untight and, with her hand firm on the door handle, she pulled the door swiftly ajar.

Initially unidentifiable things spilled out of the shallow closet, but when Blake’s arms came down from shielding herself she saw that they were merely trinkets and papers all stuffed in last minute. She sighed and let herself relax a bit, bending down to get to work putting it all back, when something caught her eye at the bottom of the closet.

A large lacquered box made of a white wood speckled with a deep reddish brown sat unlocked, but closed. Once again curiosity got the better of her and she reached out to pull it open.

Blake hesitated at the last second, though. How would Yang feel to know that there was someone going through her things? This was obviously important. What if Blake didn’t need to see it?

This was all overridden by her self-preservation, of course. She had to see what was in that box. If it was something that could catch her off guard then she needed to know.

She continued to open the box. The top clicked and made a sound quite like it was releasing pressure, though no steam could be seen. When it was fully open it stopped itself and revealed two pieces of… something covered in yellow. Two cylinders of what appeared to be armour of some sort, placed carefully into the specially made divots of red velvet outlining the inside of the box.

Blake picked it up and turned it around, trying to figure out what she was looking at. It wasn’t long before she could piece it together, however. An arm-shaped hole, a circular gun-esque magazine empty of its twelve shells, a protruding singular silver barrel on the end.

It was a weapon. Of that Blake was entirely sure. She began to worry, but suspicion caught her in the middle of it.

The entire surface of the weapon was covered in a fine layer of dust. She pulled a hand away and rubbed her fingers together, observing the soft grey film it left on the digits. If these were Yang’s weapons, she hadn’t used them in a very long time. 

A frown touched Blake’s lips, wondering why this would be. She thought back to all of Yang’s earlier words and searched for an explanation.

_“Aura was built with dorms on top of it. They belong to the school and to Professor Ozpin. Everyone who lives here works down in the restaurant part time and goes to school the other part of the time.”_

A school… The only school with any semblance of dorms in this town was…

Beacon Academy.

Blake quickly put the piece back in the box and closed it. Then she continued to put all of the things that had fallen out of the closet back inside. When she closed it she went to the bed and slipped silently into it, hiding herself in the comforter.

A trained huntress had taken her in. Yang couldn’t still be in school, the woman looked just about as old as she did and twenty-two was not the typical age of a person at a high school level academy. But this didn’t make any sense, either. Who would get accepted into such a prestigious academy and spend their time working as a bartender instead, years after they had completed all of their training?

None of this added up, but the longer she contemplated it the less she could keep it in her mind. The warmth of the bed ebbed away at her alert mind until she felt herself melting into the cushion of it. Her eyes closed against her will and her limbs became dead weight that couldn’t be moved by her if she’d had the wherewithal to do such a thing.

The last thought in her mind slipped away with her consciousness.


	3. You Don't Have To Be Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but here all the same. Excited to be publishing semi-regularly.

A coughing fit was finally what tore Blake from sleep. She couldn’t even pry her eyes open from the force of it, and the dead weight of sleep had now become the dead weight of sickness pumping itself through her veins. Her throat felt hot and it hurt to swallow. Her arms and legs ached, and there was a throbbing pain knocking on the inside of her skull. 

Blake didn’t have the energy to be panicked about how vulnerable this left her - the flu kept her too occupied with its woes to think of much else. There were merely seconds of rest between her ragged breathing and another round of coughing.

There was a knock at the door, but Blake couldn’t manage to call for the person to enter.

They came in anyway, and Yang’s voice rang out with concern. “Woah!”

Blake felt a hand brush over her forehead. Her arm shot out reflexively to push it away, but her own fumbled and shook. When she took a hold of Yang’s wrist her strength had all but fled.

The blonde was still. So still that Blake almost forgot she was there after a while. Then she spoke, and her voice wasn’t louder than a whisper. “You must have been running yourself pretty ragged for your aura to leave you this weak.”

That was an understatement. A groan escaped Blake’s lips as she felt her arm being returned to her side.

“Don’t worry,” There was a smile in Yang’s voice. “We’ll get you fixed up, huh? I’ll be right back.”

Blake couldn’t give an answer. When the words formed in her throat all that came out was more coughing. With great strain she rolled over onto her side. She hardly even felt the bed shift as Yang got up and left the room.

Time faded in and out. Blake wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had last heard Yang’s voice. And when the blonde came back into the room she had significant trouble comprehending her words. 

She was lifted by the arms and propped up against something warm. The need to flinch away, to get up and run stirred her, but she struggled to raise a hand like before.

Something went into her mouth and Yang tipped her chin up. Some cool liquid followed and she swallowed it involuntarily, triggering coughs that rattled in her chest. Yang’s voice carried on through the whole process in a low soothing hum, even though she couldn’t make out any of the words. And it was most likely her that laid Blake down again.

It was then that she heard a second voice with a higher pitch to it coming from somewhere close. A jolt of fear gave Blake the strength that was just enough to slightly open her eyes. 

“... Who…?” she whispered. 

Yang turned to her, already having made it halfway across the room. With an amused smile she made her way back to Blake and got on her knees beside the bed. 

“Blake,” she chuckled. “It’s okay. It’s just my friend, Weiss. She’s going to help me watch you and make sure you come out of this soon. Is that okay?”

Blake stared at Yang for a long moment, and then when a mass of white got closer to the corners of her vision, she shifted her gaze to focus in on the new body.

Long white hair spilling over small, pale shoulders. Ice-blue eyes watching her so intently she felt as if she should be sitting up under the presence of such a gaze. It was confusing. Familiar, but foreign.

The woman looked down at Yang and said something that Blake couldn’t quite make out again. Yang responded by starting to stand. Blake interrupted that action when her hand extended and gripped the blonde’s wrist a second time. This time, though, with a bit more force.

Yang looked surprised. But she didn’t take long to get back down to her knees and place that hand on the bed next to Blake.

“Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath, Blake.”

She hadn’t even realised that she’d started to hyperventilate. Neither had her body. A cough threatened to rise in her throat, but she swallowed it back down and took as deep a breath as she could. Blake forced herself to surrender Yang’s wrist.

“Weiss won’t hurt you. She won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Yang promised. “You’re really sick right now, so you need someone to make sure you’re getting enough liquids and sleeping alright. Because of that pill I told you about you’re going to be very sluggish, but don’t worry. I trust Weiss with my life, and you can, too.”

Blake finally closed her eyes. It wasn’t that she was convinced, it was just too difficult to keep them open. The last part of Yang’s sentence had been just barely intelligible and Blake could feel herself slipping out of consciousness again. 

“Is she a huntress, too?”

She wasn’t able to see the other women’s reactions before she was relieved of her awareness.

The next couple of days were one giant, drugged, sick blur. Every once in a while someone would prop her up, move her around, put something on her head to keep her cool, feed her. When she finally woke up the light was so bright from the sunset streaming in through the bedroom window that she had to turn away and give her eyes time to adjust to the novelty of being awake.

Rubbing her eyelids, she yawned and sat up in bed. Her bones protested from their lack of use, and her ears ached fiercely from being tucked away for so long. Otherwise she felt like she could get up and run from her bed to Mistral in no time flat and still have time to get back for lunch, considering what state she had just been in.

Blake stayed still for a moment, staring off into space. Her disheveled hair came down around her shoulders and pushed into her cheeks and forehead. When she opened her mouth and closed it again she could tell that it would be optimal to brush her teeth. She added showering to her to-do list as well, feeling all around oily and terribly unclean.

She raised her hand to her head, ready to pull off her headband and let her ears breathe, but it was then that she remembered.

It was also then that she noticed the door to Yang’s room opening.

Blake had no time to do anything, there wasn’t anywhere to hide. So she stayed perfectly still where she was. She was frozen, tensed, and poised to bolt if anything went south. Even when she saw that it was the owner of the room herself backing in she didn’t allow herself to relax.

Before Yang could even see Blake she reacted immediately as if she could feel the tension in the room. Her head snapped to the faunus’ form and it was a moment before she smiled. She then used slow and deliberate movements and kept the door wide open as she made her way to the bed.

“You’re finally awake,” Yang noted amiably. “How do you feel?”

Blake knew she must look ridiculous, having not showered or moved since the last time she’d been conscious. She tried to picture herself from Yang’s standpoint: Hair a mess, clothes wrinkled and stained with sweat in a stagnant room.

Suddenly she noticed the smell coming from Yang -- or more importantly, from Yang’s hands. The aroma of beef bone and vegetables hit Blake like a truck. Without her consent her stomach howled for the taste of whatever it was that Yang was holding. An impossibly still Blake became even more statuesque save for the deep red that faded into her cheeks.

A choking sound erupted from Yang. One hand held the bowl while the other held back her laughter. Inner Blake collapsed with embarrassment. Outer Blake turned a deep berry red. And Yang apologised quickly when her laughter subsided.

She began to walk forward, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I just feel like that’s the loudest I’ve heard you these past three days. You don’t even make a lot of noise when you’re coughing your lungs out.”

Blake had no idea how to reply to this. And when she was given the bowl and the spoon to drink it from she had to make herself give it a visual check before she gave it a taste.

It was so good. She had heard the age old expression of hunger being the best spice, but the soup was out of this or any world. The oxtail was soft, and the onion melted in nicely with the spices of the broth. She kept her hand mechanically moving from the bowl to her mouth with just enough slowness to keep it polite, but it was probably the hardest thing she had ever had to do.

So invested in her meal, Blake was oblivious to the fact that Yang was sitting at the foot of the bed watching her until she finished and looked up. Again the blood in her body shot to her face and neck, suddenly like a bug squirming underneath a magnifying glass.

“... Thank you for the soup,” It took all that she had not to whisper the sentence, looking away from the blonde. “... I… Think I may take you up on that shower now, if that’s alright.”

“Oh,” Yang seemed to come out of her thoughts at the request. She stood up slowly, her hands reaching for the bowl in between them with the same care. “Right, yeah. Your clothes are washed and dried. I’ll go get them and a towel if you want to hop on in.”

She got up from the bed and tiptoed to the doorframe, peeking around in time to see Yang disappear behind the folding doors of the living area. When she was satisfied that she could, she slipped silently into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

The first thing she did when she was alone was pull off her headband and let her ears go free. A cool wave of relief flooded over her and she released it with a deep sigh, massaging the kinks out of the furry digits. 

How long had she been out? Blake couldn’t be sure. It could have been any amount of time. The light coming in from the window in the bedroom clearly told her that it had been late afternoon when she’d finally opened her eyes, but that didn’t affirm anything. With as sick as she _did_ remember being, it couldn’t have been just one day since she’d arrived.

The thought of having been unconscious for nearly a week made her stressed. The longer she stayed in one place the longer Adam had time to plan on how to coerce her out of it. At this point she couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t already tried something on Yang.

 _That_ thought was terrifying. If Adam had already convinced Yang to give her up…

No. Adam didn’t make deals with humans. He cut them down without a second thought. And he didn’t like to wait for the right time, either. Adam rushed in almost without thinking if he thought you could make a move. The fact that Blake was still there and able to have this conversation with herself meant that he didn’t believe himself able to make a move.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still out there, though. Somewhere in the city, ready for them to meet up.

Pushing those fears away just for a moment Blake got to work pulling off her sweaty borrowed clothing. Once again the mirror above the bathroom sink threatened to catch her gaze. But she forced herself to ignore it and turn to the shower.

The whole setup of the bathrooms in Vale never ceased to disappoint her. Usually omitting a bathtub altogether, she frowned at this classic Valian bathroom containing only a sink, a toilet, and a shower with a glass door. She missed the baths of Menagerie back home: a separate room for the toilet and sink, a real bath and a tiled floor to scrub up beforehand.

Blake let another sigh escape before she pulled the glass door aside and turned on the water. Something akin to a strangled squeak popped out of her as her head caught in the sudden stream of cold water shooting out of the showerhead. She retracted from it quickly and shook her head free of the droplets that remained, cursing mentally.

Somewhere in the apartment she could have sworn that she’d heard laughter.

When she felt less affected, and when the water was warm enough, she hopped in. Not wanting to stay for too long, she borrowed the minimum amount of soap that she could find and did as thorough a job as she could before hopping out again. And she had promised, Yang had left a towel and Blake’s clothes right outside of the door so that Blake could grab them and slip everything on as quickly as possible.

With her headband in place, and her clothes smelling fresh of jasmine for some reason, she exited the bathroom. First, though, she peeked to make sure that no one was standing outside of it. When she was satisfied she let her usual cautious gait carry her through the hallway and to the empty kitchen.

The first glance of the living room windows from the corner of her vision caused her to quickly step back into the shadow of the hall.

Blake had forgotten all about them. But now all of the feelings she’d experienced upon her first time in front of them threatened to come careening back. This time she nearly lost her composure. Clutching at her chest she closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. 

Her eyes flew open as she heard the shuffle of a body to her right. On instinct she backed up and stiffened in case of attack, but Yang’s lavender eyes only conveyed concern. 

“Whoops! Sorry,” Yang pushed herself up the last step into the kitchen and brought herself to her full height with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Blake couldn’t immediately bring herself to say anything back, virtually frozen by the light of the setting sun overwhelmingly draped over Yang’s form and illuminating her blonde mane. The latter seemed to notice, but she didn’t understand at first.

“... Are you okay?”

Blake struggled for a way to say what she was thinking. “... The windows,” she admitted finally. Her voice shook only slightly, but her inability to say anything more made her shrink a little further.

Yang looked over at the windows in question. Then she seemed to remember Blake’s reaction from the other night and her features became unreadable. Without a word she reached for both of the doors and pulled them shut, the only sound in the room being the soft grinding of the wood as they followed their tracks to a close.

The smile returned, but softer this time. “The sun always sets in full view of that room and makes it so cozy in the afternoon…” Yang turned and made her way around Blake to flip a switch, and once more the kitchen illuminated with an audible click. 

The blonde looked different than she had during their first meeting. Her hair was down, and it fell thick, and strong, and golden over her bare shoulders. Her attire was fully relaxed now -- orange tank top and greyish-brown jeans, no shoes, no socks. 

Yang knew how to get comfortable when she wasn’t on duty. A pang of guilt ran through Blake, on account of how uncomfortable she must have made Yang in return.

But as she turned to face Blake again the awkwardity of the silence between them came to its first head and overrode her sense of shame. Blake found herself looking for anything to say to fill the void.

“How… How long was I out?” Her voice, though quiet, was loud in the space of the kitchen.

Yang raised an eyebrow. Raising her hand to rest on her hip her smile curled into a look of amusement. “About three days.”

Three days. It was both better and worse than Blake had hoped for. Her obvious surprise caused the woman across from her to give into a little laugh. 

“We tried to wake you up when you had gotten rid of your fever and you weren’t coughing anymore, but you were conked out. Neither of us could wake you,” Yang shrugged it off. “I guess you needed the rest.”

Blake had to agree with that last part. When Yang had grabbed her she hadn’t really slept in days. And she hadn’t had any good sleep in weeks, maybe even months.

Really contemplating it then, she wasn’t even sure about how long it had been since she’d left Adam and the White Fang. She relied on thinking it had been a year just for shorthand, the real amount of time blurred with all of the towns she had visited and the people she had seen. How much sleep she had gotten, or not gotten, most likely affected her overall sense of time.

Blake was a drifter now. But not the kind that showed up in the old movies looking cool and gaining respect for good deeds done. It was worse than that; There was no glory in the way that she lived now.

She forced herself to give up on that anxious spiral of thoughts for a word that had caught her ear. “We?”

“Yeah. Weiss and I,” Yang pointed back towards the bedrooms as if Weiss were waiting just over her shoulder. “I had to work through it, but she had the time off. So she ended up watching over you most of the time. You can thank her for that in the morning when you see her.”

 _In the morning…_ Blake’s expression dropped at the expectation she would have to excuse herself from. Looking away from Yang she retreated a single step and shook her head.

“... No.” 

Yang’s face changed again. The knowing look in the woman’s gaze made Blake feel nauseous, but she pressed on.

“I’m sorry,” she explained, “Thank you so much for helping me while I was sick, a-and for taking me in, and being… so understanding, but…”

There was no way that she could stay, and no reason to. Adam was still out there. And she still had the past that she brought with her wherever she went. The longer she stayed the more in danger everyone around her became. Adam would find a way somehow, the longer he could think about it the more of a chance he could figure out how to get to her. She felt it in her bones that the chance that he would leave her alone at this rate was very slim.

And so she had to leave. There were no two ways about it. If she had to suffer for her problems she would suffer alone.

“I see,” said Yang finally. There was no doubt that the woman was visibly disappointed by the news, but she seemed to be trying to be considerate of Blake’s wishes. “I’ll admit it will be kind of sad to see you leave so soon, but... if you gotta leave then you just gotta.”

Blake nodded and held in another apology. It was for the best.

“Well,” Yang bounced back with a smirk, “before you leave, how about one last meal?”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. She wasn’t sure why, but the question surprised her. “... What?”

The blonde set her hands on her hips. “We’re on top of a restaurant, so don’t worry about it being any trouble for anyone.”

That wasn’t the problem. Blake found herself sputtering. “Wh- No, I-I just ate.”

“And?”

There was another pause, but this time it was filled with an embarrassed silence as Blake tried to collect her thoughts and explain. “I… But I don’t have any money.”

This made Yang roll her eyes. “I didn’t say you had to pay for it. You don’t. But I know that one bowl of soup after not having hardly eaten anything for days isn’t enough to fill anyone up.”

She was right. Blake wasn’t anywhere near full, and her stomach ached for more. But she had gotten so good at denying herself more she hadn’t even considered it. Now that it was an option, though, she knew she would have an incredibly hard time saying no.

She didn’t have to say anything, though. The look on Yang’s face told her that her own thought process had been a little too transparent. So, exasperated, she took a deep breath and nodded once more.

“... Alright.”


	4. So Much For So Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't post early like I wanted to. Probably going to also be on a bit of a hiatus because writing this chapter made me realise I had kinks to get out of the main story and a bunch of lore to read up on. I will try to keep posting regularly, but I will most certainly make a post [here](https://pollynefarious.tumblr.com/) on the status of the story on the 23rd of February. Thank you all for reading.

The restaurant was just as void as the night that Blake had first seen it. The entire space was incredibly clean, the tables were set perfectly, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. 

She steadied the door that Yang had bolted through, and let it fall softly to a close behind her. By the time she fully faced the dining room, the blonde had already set herself down in a booth on the far side by a window. It took a bit of coaxing, but Blake reminded herself that these windows were not see-through and carefully made her way to the seat opposite her. 

No sooner than she had made it to the table and sat down, Yang popped back up and grin. “Oh, wait, sorry. I have to go order first. There’s only one thing on the menu tonight, I hope that’s okay?”

Blake, not one to be picky about a free meal, shook her head. “That’s fine,” Then she added, Thank you.”

“Woah, so polite,” With a wink Yang chuckled, “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere _yet_.”

And with that she started off to the back, heading through the double doors and disappearing into the kitchen. Blake watched her go and then turned to the table with a sigh.

Yang’s words had made her feel more guilty than before. It was like her to feel guilty about someone taking her in or giving her something she had a hard time asking for in the first place. But Yang had taken her in, dried her clothes, _and_ taken care of her for three days while she was out. It was a lot for one person to do for someone they didn’t even know.

Her eyes met the tinted glass doors at the entrance, and the rush of emotions that pulled and pushed in her chest made her limbs heavy with anxiety. She had no plan - yet. But she finally had enough time in her own head to think about her next course of action.

Her first step was to leave and go back for Gambol Shroud. She had lost it running from Adam, having to shed it to get away. But she was sure that he hadn’t noticed that she’d left it since he’d followed her so closely instead. So she needed to go back and spot the place out before retrieving it. 

Momentarily she touched the place at her side where her weapon had been, feeling very awful and naked without it. No matter what, she needed to get it back. And then after that…

 _Keep running._ It didn’t get much more simple than that. She would have to make up for the time that she lost being sick, it was likely that he was out there scheming for her and was somewhere close waiting for her to leave the building. And if she managed to slip past his gaze, get Gambol Shroud back, and make it far enough away that Adam lost track of her again and she was in the clear for the time being, then she couldn’t stop there. 

She needed an end-goal. So far she had been terrified and exhausted, running from area to area with great haste after Adam’s ability to track her had gotten remarkably better eight months in to her desertion. Her carelessness had made her easy to pinpoint. But she wasn’t careless anymore.

She could go to Atlas. Immigration would be difficult to get past unnoticed, but it would get her far away from Adam and the White Fang in Vale. But that would be going overboard, and there was such a slim chance of success there. 

She could go to Vacuo. She would have to make it there, of course. Getting there by land meant having to risk being targeted by familiar White Fang members, on top of being too close to Adam to feel at ease. If she caught a ship and traveled straight from Vale to a port in Vacuo, she would be far enough away from him that she wouldn’t have to worry about him. But Vacuo was a particularly unforgiving place, and even more dangerous than Vale. 

She entertained the idea of heading back to Menagerie, back to her parents, for an entire second before she took a deep breath. There was no way. They probably hadn’t forgiven her for her desertion of them years before leaving Adam and the White Fang. She couldn’t expect them to protect her, and she would be putting them in peril by just being there if Adam’s reach extended even that far.

The deliberation of her next move brought her deep into a troubling trance that kept her occupied for the twelve or so minutes that Yang spent in the kitchen. She had to be precise, and careful, and most importantly she had to be sure that when she started on a path it was easily alterable. If _anything_ came up at _any_ time, she needed to be certain that it wouldn’t be the end for her.

The more she contemplated, though, the more she felt trapped. There were too many ways that something could go wrong. And she was used to that. But now, knowing that Adam was so close, she pressed her brain for a plan that wouldn’t corner her.

Just as Blake delved deeper into her options the doors to the kitchen swung open. Startled, she jumped in her seat and turned to see Yang with her hair up again, striding towards the table with a large serving platter held above her shoulder.

When she set the platter down on the table and began to unload it, Blake had to stop herself from drooling.

A plate of raw seafood - fish and shellfish resting on ice - came out first, followed by a large plate of noodles. Then a plate of sliced meat, a plate of vegetables, and little sauce plates of chopped scallions, garlic and a familiar couple of liquids. Yang arranged them all on the table and then disappeared to the back, reappearing with a portable hotplate under one arm and one large pot filled with a milky white broth in her grasp.

“Hot Pot?” Her voice had been more eager than she’d liked, but she couldn’t stop the wave of nostalgia crashing against her.

Yang grimaced, “No good? There was nobody back there, and I _was_ going to just grab some meat and stir-fry it, but then I thought that it might be better if you were able to pick your own ingredients.”

Yang set the components down and Blake quickly explained herself. 

“N-no! This is great. I just…” She looked around at all of the different elements of the meal and her voice quieted. “... This seems like a lot of work for just… you and I.”

Yang’s smirk returned after a pause, and she got to work setting everything up the way she wanted it. “Well… Don’t worry too much about it, okay? It wasn’t all that much work. And in the end it’s gonna be worth it.”

The fire from the mini gas stove popped on and Yang came to rest in the seat across from Blake. The former’s fingers rose up to the thick band that held her hair, releasing it and letting her locks spill out onto her shoulders. The latter kept her eyes locked on the pot in front of her, immersing her thoughts in the swirling white broth within. 

There was silence as Yang watched Blake, and Blake watched the pot. And very quickly that silence wore on Blake. Her gaze moved over to the empty chairs tables on the dining room floor, letting her questions float to the top just to fill the void.

“Is it… always this empty in here?”

Yang set her eyes on the bar and let them pass fleetingly over the room. “Nah. Usually business is booming, especially with the Vytal Festival being held here in Vale this year.... But, usually, we have workers to help with customers,” She leaned against the backboard of the booth and let her arm run the length of it. “Because we’re a restaurant mainly staffed by Beacon students we go through kind of like an on season where they’re working, and an off season where they’re all taking tests and going on missions.”

She looked back at the pot that was starting to simmer, her mauve eyes in some faraway place. “For three more days until the end of this week, kids like my sister are studying hard, being overwhelmed by exams, and putting themselves through the ringer to show what new techniques they’ve learned so far… They’ve gone on their first real missions, felt their first real battles, seen what they believe are their first real glimpses of the life of a Huntress… One step closer to what they think are lives of glory and excitement, but...” 

Yang seemed to watch the soup with a conflicted, but disconnected regard. Around it her expression appeared carefully pieced together.

A few things struck Blake as odd while Yang spoke. The existence of a sister notwithstanding, the tone of this musing of Yang’s was oddly discordant with what she had seen so far. This was obviously a point of contention, and an active one at that. But before she could say anything a snort punctuated the pause. 

“Anyway, we’ll have a full house of workers in three days. Which will be good, because there’s a little bit over a month until the end of the semester. And that means that in two weeks even more people will be arriving for the Vytal Festival Tournaments, so we’ll be pretty busy then and we’ll need the help.” 

Blake gave a little nod, but she almost didn’t hear the words. Her thoughts were stuck on the strange and brief diatribe of the seconds before. Though she didn’t know if it were the smartest thing to do, she couldn’t help but pry.

“You don’t want your sister to become a Huntress?

The question stunned Yang. She stared at Blake for a long moment, but then her eyes fell back to the now boiling pot.

“It’s complicated…” The words struggled as they left Yang, but they were softened with a small smile. “In the end the real world... isn’t anything like school.”

Blake let that sink in to her skin before she grabbed her chopsticks and tried to concentrate on adding ingredients to the hot pot. Mostly, though, she let the silence ensue while Yang chose what to put in, digesting her own understanding of those words.

She hadn’t really ever been to traditional school. Menagerie had a very village mentality when it came to the education of the youth. Between that and how she had spent her time in the teeth of the White Fang, she had hardly any fond school memories. 

But she related to the feeling of innocence. Even as jaded as the world had made her at such a young age, looking back on it now she could see her own ignorance and naiveté as plain as the body across the table from her.

Yang finished loading up the soup with what she wanted and set her utensils down. “My turn, then.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow in query, setting some shrimp into the pot. Yang grinned again, appearing amused by that somehow. 

“You don’t have to get too deep into anything, but I’m super curious about a couple things. I’ll be fine with just a yes or a no, is that okay?”

In all actuality, Blake dreaded the questions. But she felt obligated, and Yang wasn’t asking for much. So she took a deep breath and grabbed one of the serving bowls of dipping sauce. 

“Go ahead.”

“Yes! Ok, then, here goes. First question: You’re not from Vale, are you?”

“... No.”

“I thought so. How far away is your city?”

Blake shot her a withering stare and Yang apologised, remembering her terms.

“Sorry. Have you… been to lots of different places in your travels?”

Blake stirred the pot and brought out a piece of cooked meat, dipping it daintily in the sauce. “... Yes.”

Yang followed suit, ostensibly satisfied with the answer and contemplating her next question.

“Are you a big drinker?”

“No.”

“A smoker?”

“No.”

“Hm… Do you like playing games?”

“Depends.”

“On What?”

Another dry look was thrown Yang’s way, and Blake followed it with a small smile. Yang responded with a pause long enough for her grin to widen, and she leaned back again on the backrest. 

“... Would you consider yourself ‘personable’ or, um… let’s see… Ah, friendly?”

“Why-”

“I’ll put that down as a ‘yes’ for time’s sake.”

The blonde’s simpering lips couldn’t stretch much farther across her face. And Blake gave in fully to her exasperation, shaking her head. “You’re incredible.”

Yang chuckled, “I know. Next question: Have you ever wanted to be an actress?”

One last sigh escaped Blake and she set her chopsticks down. “What kinds of questions are these? I feel like I’m being interviewed.”

The woman across from her chuckled and reached to grab something out of the pot. “I guess you _could_ call them interview questions. I just want to see if you’d be a good fit.”

Blake’s smile ebbed away, suspicion starting to flare in the back of her mind. “... A good fit for... _what_?”

Yang didn’t answer right away. She chewed on her response with the food in her mouth, then let it go after she swallowed. 

“Look,” She sat up straight and put everything in her hands down on the table. It was uncomfortable, but the blonde made sure to capture Blake’s eyes with her own. “I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got somewhere to be, but from what I’ve seen so far I’m pretty worried. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, though I don’t think I am: You don’t have anywhere to go, you’re in a new city, you haven’t had enough time to come up with a real plan. That man that I saw following you? He doesn’t look like the type to be benevolent or forgiving about whatever he you’ve done. So I’m thinking you’ve basically been on the run and keeping yourself barely alive… until now.”

Blake’s expression grew concerned, her mouth slightly open, but without any words to fill it. By the time she could think of something as a rebuttal, Yang had already cut her off, still smiling.

“I don’t want to stick my nose into anything you don’t want me knowing, and in the end it’s entirely your decision. But hear me out first.”

Yang gestured to the bar. “The Aura isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a social hub that Hunters and Huntresses frequent for food and games. We give them a little bit of entertainment and they get drunk enough to tell us their woes and their secrets, all the things they know about a certain topic. If you stay here with me until school lets out a month from now, then I can teach you how to interact with Hunters and you could learn something about the man chasing you and make a good plan. Meanwhile you’d be constantly protected by a building full of trained, armed mercenaries. And in return the students who would be doing these jobs normally would get more time to study and train for the tournament. It’s a win-win. What do you say?”

Now that Yang was finally silent and waiting for an answer, Blake found herself with so many questions that she couldn’t even pick one to ask first. She had the urge to run. She felt the need to question Yang’s motives, accuse her of having an underlying aim. She almost wanted to explain how bad of an idea that could be. But no desire triumphed over the other. Instead she stayed exactly where she was.

“I can do just fine on my own,” she finally said.

“Yeah, I saw that,” Yang didn’t look convinced in the slightest. 

“Look,” Blake ignored the remark, “Thank you for taking me in and taking care of me, but you don’t even understand what I’m dealing with in the slightest. You don’t know Adam like I do. Every single one of you is in danger the longer I stay here. How can you just think you can protect me?”

“How do you think you can make it anywhere without a plan against this ‘Adam’ guy?”

Blake grit her teeth, looking away. She hadn’t meant to say his name. But that was less pressing in the moment.

“I’ve managed before and I can manage now. I don’t need help.”

“You don’t even believe that.”

There was a smile in Yang’s voice, but then just a twinkle in her eyes. Blake met them with a frown.

She was right. Blake didn’t believe she could make it. Not with a plan she didn’t even possess. Leaving so soon would be foolish, but staying… didn’t feel right, either. It was just as uncertain as leaving.

“Where would I sleep?” She was dejected and lost, watching the pot boil as everything overcooked inside. 

“Well,” Yang took up her chopsticks again and fished around, blowing on a piece before she ate it. “We don’t have any free rooms this year. I suppose you would just stay with Weiss and me, in my room - _if_ you were okay with that.”

Blake wasn’t sure if she was. 

The rest of the dinner went on in a wordless silence. The only sounds that punctured the veil over the two were the noises of slurping and sipping. 

By the time it was all over Blake’s gaze stayed locked on the door to the restaurant. Her heart had already made a decision, but it went against everything she had come to be in the last year.

She still was not entirely sure that she could trust the woman who’d taken her in. She couldn’t be sure that Adam hadn’t spoken to her and twisted her. She couldn’t be sure that such kindness wouldn’t turn to manipulation later. She worried about being exposed and losing the kindness she’d been shown all in one moment. She had no idea whether staying there would be better or worse in the long run. But she felt the same about the running around in the open world.

Just thinking of stepping foot outside and into his sight made the anxiety burn in her bones. Her feet had turned to lead as she’d sat nearly motionless at the table. In her periphery she could see Yang casting her poorly hidden empathetic frowns, and that just made it all worse. 

Finally Yang spoke, her voice quieter than before. “It’s all your decision, Blake. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t--”

“You told me that I could trust you.”

Yang’s eyebrows shot into her bangs, her eyes wide. Blake’s face, now pointed at the table, was obscured and hard to read. But when she lifted it to peer hard into Yang’s soul, the latter’s lung’s visibly halted.

“So I’m trusting you, Yang. Just until I get my plan all figured out.”

With a shake of her head she added, “Please don’t make me regret this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Always appreciative of thoughts and feelings in the comments below.


End file.
